To Boston, With Love
by Khluver4eva1
Summary: When Carson drags his brother along for a two-week trip to Boston, they find themselves straying away from the task at hand and instead falling-more like faceplanting- for two unexpected people. Rizzles, Carson/Frankie, Kurt/Elliot.


Hello, my name's Adri, and I'm the weirdo that wrote this fanfic.

If anything remotely LGBT oriented offends you, I advise you to press that biiiig red X at the top right corner. Go ahead, I'll see ya later.

For those of you who remain, let me just say I'm super excited about writing this. I don't really have an update schedule planned, but I live down the road from a library and I go there a lot, so I'll do my best!

Also, this WILL NOT be a Kurt/Carson story. If you wanna read that, though, I suggest Unbreakable Bonds and Beneath The Mask You Wear by ColferPervertSoldier. They're AMAZING and I read UB over and over again all the time.

However, in this story, they are twins, and they are protective of one another, as brothers should be. (Like Agron and Duro from _Spartacus_, minus the killing.)

I haven't seen S4 of Rizzoli and Isles yet because I haven't bought it yet. I'll find a way. This story takes place sometime after the events of 3.01.

Also, there may be triggering elements in this story, and I'll put the warning at the start of the chapter if this happenes.

Without further ado, let's read!

* * *

"Kurt! Kurt, oh my _God_, you won't believe what happened!"  
Kurt looked up from his box of moisturizers at the sound of his brother's voice combined with his thundering footsteps down the hall. He appeared in Kurt's doorway with a huge grin on his face (which was very unlike him) causing Kurt to become intrigued.

"Let me guess, Carson…you finally realized that there are more colors other than blue that you could wear?" Kurt said, chuckling when Carson rolled his eyes.

"No. I just got an email back from Dr. Isles, and she agreed to an interview with me! A real interview!" Carson exclaimed. Kurt was quiet for a moment.

"Uh, Carson, if it's not a fashion designer, an actress, actor, or a Broadway star, I don't know who it is."

Carson sighed. "Kurt, come _on_! Remember a couple months back, her dad got shot? Her dad was _Paddy Doyle_? The Mob Boss?"

"Who?"

"Dr. Maura Isles, Chief Medical Examiner of the Boston Police Department?" Carson pressed. "Kurt, this was all over the news." He realized he got nowhere when he noticed Kurt looking at him blankly. "Okay. Anyways, she suggested doing an interview with me. In person. I've told her I had to talk it over with Dad, of course, but I'm actually looking forward to it!" Carson said, sitting next to Kurt, his brother sat facing him, his back to his vanity.

"So you're actually excited to meet her? Wait, wait…you haven't developed some weird pen pal crush, have you?" Kurt teased. Carson scoffed.

"_Hell_ no! That's creepy and disturbing and it sounds like something a serial killer would do."

"Carsey, you hate everyone." Kurt pointed out.

"True, but that's because I hate how unintelligent everyone else is. She obviously isn't. Plus, this'll help with my chances of actually snagging some attention at Northwestern. I mean, I'll need something big to get in, and this is something big."

"Are you sure you wanna go up to her and say, 'Hey, remember when your dad got shot? Wanna talk to me about it?'" Kurt asked and Carson shrugged.

"I already told her I wouldn't talk to her about that because the Boston Press already did that and I'm sure she wouldn't want to talk about something hat personal with a total stranger…" his words trailed off as he heard footsteps downstairs.

"Dad's up. I'm gonna go ask him now." He rushed, running out the door.

* * *

"Maura, you've been on your phone for like, an hour. What's wrong, big DSW sale about to close?" Jane joked as she stood on the other side of the kitchen island, the woman in question continuing to tap away on her phone.

"No, I'm talking to Carson," She answered, finally setting the phone down and looking up at Jane, who raised an eyebrow.

"Carson? Who's Carson? Another secret boyfriend like Ian?" She asked. Maura rolled her eyes. "No. He's a student who asked to interview me about my job and life and what not. And besides, he's too young for me." She walked her cabinet and pulled out a coffee mug.

"And is you-know-who involved in this what not?" Jane questioned.

"Jane," Maura started to say, walking back to the island and pushing down on the coffee press.

"What?! I'm just saying, it sounds kind of suspicious," Jane defended.

"He actually doesn't want to talk about my father. He just wants to talk about my job and why I'm in this profession in the first place." Maura smiled, pouring her coffee in the mug. "Want some?"

"No, I'm good. And where is he even gonna stay? And how long is he gonna be here? Why did you even agree to this?"

'A hotel, two weeks because I don't know if someone's going to be killed between now and then, and because he seems like a very intelligent young man, unlike others his age." She answered the questions in succession. "Would you rather me have him stay at my house?" She asked, taking a long drink from her coffee.

"You let my mother stay at your house." Jane countered.

"Well, that's different. I like your mother. And technically, she's staying in my guest house."

"What's this kids name again?"

"Carson Hummel." Maura answered.

"Okay, thanks." Jane pulled out her phone and started to tap as Maura had been earlier.

"What are you doing?" Maura asked as Jane put her phone back in her pocket.

"Nothing. Just…I may or may not have asked Frost to run his name-"

"Jane!" Maura exclaimed while Jane groaned.

"Oh c'mon, Maura! You can't expect me _not_ to do that. I mean, this kid could be a drug dealer, or, or a murderer, or a psycho or something," Jane rambled, now pacing back and forth, stopping when she heard Maura giggle. "What's so funny?" her friend smiled at her.

"You're worrying. It's sweet."

Jane stared at Maura and scoffed. "I'm not worried." She lied.

"Yes, you are. You have a tendency to ramble." Maura nodded. "And, your hands get sweaty."

Jane tried (and failed) to discreetly wipe her hands on her pants. "Well, they're not sweaty anymore, so there." She responded, just before both of their phones buzzed.

"It's a murder. C'mon, you can email your schoolboy later." Maura laughed at the joke, grabbing her phone and purse, following Jane out the door.


End file.
